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A Prime's Loyal Scout by BotKisser69
Fandoms: Transformers: Earthspark (Cartoon), Transformers - All Media Types
02 Jan 2025
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Bookmark Notes:
Once the debug code transfer finished, Ratchet gave another reassuring pat to Bee’s arm. “All done, I’ll unplug now, let me know when you’re ready.”
“Yeah, just- now.” Bumblebee grunted through gritted dentas.
The jack was removed swiftly, drawing another groan from the smaller bot, his servo quickly moving to rub it, trying to massage away the feeling of having a foreign object inside him, before shifting in the berth, closing the debug panel cover and wrapping an arm around his middle. A huff of vented air escaped his intake as fans began to slow and his flushed faceplate returned to its usual silver.
“Sorry, I know it’s not the nicest feeling sometimes, especially not in a clinical environment.” Ratchet apologised, reaching back down and grabbing the cube of energon he had taken away from Bee earlier before placing it back in the other’s black servos. “Here, have some of this while the response decodes, it’ll make you feel better.
Cool crystal pressed against metallic dermas as sweet, pink liquid energon passed into the younger’s intake, was swallowed, and radiated a warming sensation through his tank. Ratchet was right, it did make him feel better.
Reaching down and grabbing his own, Ratchet stared at the small screen before taking a swig, crooking an optical ridge as the machine chirped and presented him with the data.
“So, good news or bad news first?” The doctor questioned.
“Good…?” Came the apprehensive reply.
“You have time to prepare before you need to go on leave.”
“Okay, and what’s the bad news?”
“You have just over two cycles to figure out who’s doing your job for you for the next, hmm… make it three mega-cycles, based on how long you’ve been suppressing. You’ll need time to recover.”
“Oh, slag .”
The cube was placed again onto the floor- now empty- and Bee’s free servos shifted to cradle his yellow helm in exhausted exasperation, a groan of frustrated self-pity resonating through his vocaliser as he slumped forwards.
Letting him process the information, Ratchet took the moment to perform an external scan on Bumblebee’s damaged knee plate. Just a surface-level injury, a relatively small dent in the metal, and a crack on the glass of his lights. It would self-repair if left, but would take longer than Bee would want, he was sure of that. The diagnostic tool was subspaced, and a nanite-mineral compound salve was un-subspaced. Ratchet finished the rest of his energon and subspaced the empty vessel, picking up Bumblebee’s and doing the same- to deal with later.
“Should I fix that bent knee-plate and scraped servo of yours?” Ratchet asked.
“Yeah, please.” Came the quiet, dull response. The usually chatty Bumblebee had had the air knocked out of his secondary-cooling system, both by the horrid ‘PHS’ and the new realisation that he had to figure out what was going to happen for the next three mega cycles, had to figure out how to explain it to the kids and had to figure out how to explain it to the others that he’d be off the job because he would be doubled over a berth keening for some non-existent spike, all without blowing a fuel line in embarrassment.
“Are you sure I can’t supress, just this one more time?” He pleaded.
“I’m sure. I won’t be responsible for you frying any circuits or hard resetting your processor.” Ratchet responded with a firm but fair air as his servos gently applied the salve to the other’s damaged knee-plate, his thumb-digit rubbing the salve into the scratched metal and glass as his forefinger pushed up on the dented plate, popping it back into place.
“Ow!” Bee yelped, recoiling his leg back to his chest.